Harry Potter and The King of Kings
by PeopleBoreMe
Summary: When a force far greater than the Dark Lord threatens to take over all of England, the dark and the light must band together or perish. But will The Order of the Phoenix and the Death Eaters be able to forgive and forget? HPTR [maybe mpreg] warning: SLASH
1. Prologue

A/N: This is my first fanfic, so please be kind. I'd like to point out that in my story, the events of the 6th book are ignored. Also, in my potterverse, Sirus is not dead and Lucius Malfoy is not in Azkaban. Thoughts will be expressed it italics.

Disclaimer: All I own is the plot. Any people/places/things you may recognize belong to JKR.

**Prologue:**

Harry James Potter, son of James and Lily Potter, was confused. He sat on the grey stone floor outside Headmaster Dumbledore's office, twiddling his thumbs and occasionally glancing at the stone gargoyle only to realize that yes, it was still closed and yes, he would have to sit here longer. Harry would then let out an impatient sigh and turn to his best friends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, only to realize that they too were staring at the gargoyle in frustration. This, however, was not what confused him.

For you see, across from Harry Potter sat Draco Malfoy, blonde git extraordinaire. Not only that, but his sneering father and stoic mother sat next to him. What confused Harry, though, was the lack of yelling. When Harry had plodded into the hallway and seen the peculiar family, he had expected a greeting filled with sneers and jeers. However, none had come. The Malfoys had barely spared Harry a glance before turning their eyes straight ahead and promptly ignoring him.

Harry didn't even know why he was here. He had simply been yanked out of the garden at Privet Drive by an anxious Remus Lupin whilst tending to his Aunt Petunia's petunias and brought to Hogwarts via floo. He was then told that Dumbledore was in a "very important meeting" and to "wait outside his office."

Harry glanced up at the stone gargoyle again, this time catching Draco Malfoy's eyes. He held the grey orbs for a moment, before they broke contact and the boy returned to ignoring Harry. He wondered again why he was here and why Lupin had thought it safe to deposit him in the company of a known death eater.

Just when Harry though he might be confused enough to actually ask _Lucius Malfoy_ for help, he was saved. Looking to his left, Harry spotted his godfather and Lupin trotting down the hallway, followed by Molly Weasley, Moody, Snape, and other various members of the Order. They, too, walked in silence.

Harry glanced at the stone gargoyle again just for kicks (he'd stopped believing that it would open long ago) and was surprised to find that it was open! He could just see the tips of Dumbledore's golden shoes appearing at the bottom of the staircase and could barely conceal his excitement- he had been sitting out here for hours, after all!

Harry's joy was quickly squashed, however, when he saw menacing cloaked figure trailing behind Dumbledore. The pair reached the bottom and Albus smiled jovially at everyone before gesturing to his comrade. The man (Harry assumed) reached up to remove his hood and Harry's eyes widened at the sight that greeted him.

"You!" Harry swiftly stood and pointed his wand at the man. Everyone else in the hallway only stared at him bewilderedly except for Dumbledore, Snape, the Malfoys, and Ginny. For next to Dumbledore stood a young Tom Riddle, complete with wavy black hair and attractive chocolate eyes. Harry glanced at the members of the order, wondering why no one else had come to Dumbledore's aid, only to belatedly realize that they had never seen Tom Riddle in the flesh before.

"Take it easy, my boy!" Dumbledore soothed. Harry glanced from Riddle to Dumbledore and back again.

And he had thought he was confused before!

Still, Harry trusted Dumbledore's judgment and lowered his wand, still keeping his careful eyes trained on Riddle.

Dumbledore chuckled and swept down the hallway, throwing a "please follow me!" over his shoulder. The members of the Order obediently shrugged and turned to follow him into the Great Hall, leaving Harry, the Malfoys, and the Dark Lord standing in the hallway alone. Seeing that Riddle had not made a move to kill him yet, Harry cautiously turned and entered the Great Hall behind everyone else.

HPTRHPTRHPTRHPTRHPTR

Harry shifted uncomfortably in his chair as he watched Dumbledore pace at the front of the Great Hall. It was obvious to Harry that, though the old man was trying valiantly to seem untroubled, something was on his mind.

For once, Harry knew exactly what that 'something' was.

After all, it's not every day that Harry and the Dark Lord sat in the same room without attempting to kill each other.

Before he had enough time to wonder exactly _why _Tom Riddle was calmly sitting across from him (and staring at him, no less!), Harry was shocked out of his musings- Dumbledore had stopped pacing and was regarding his guests with sparkling blue eyes.

"I've gathered you all here today because it seems we have a situation on our hands," Dumbledore started. "As you may notice, we have a few guests present tonight. Please welcome Lucius, Narcissa, and Draco Malfoy."

All those present (with the exception of Dumbledore and Tom Riddle) cast wary glances at the small family, as if checking to be sure that it was actually them. When it finally seemed as though no one would jump out from behind a stone column and scream "gotcha! Had you goin' for a second there," The Order turned back to the headmaster. The young stranger cleared his throat and Dumbledore studied him for a moment. Then, as if it were a side note, Dumbledore addressed The Order again:

"I would also like you to welcome Tom Marvolo Riddle."


	2. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: All I own is the plot. Any people/places/things you may recognize are the property of JKR.

**Chapter 1:**

The silence that met Dumbledore's statement was deafening. Harry sucked in a breath and hesitantly looked at the other members of the Order, not daring to move too quickly for fear of starting World War III. Sirius' mouth hung wide open and Ron's eyes had grown to twice their normal size. Harry turned his gaze back to the man in front of him to find a confident Tom Riddle meeting the stares of the Order head on.

Harry took this time to study his enemy closer. He had not changed much from the boy Harry had met in the Chamber of Secrets. Though he seemed a little older, maybe nineteen or twenty, his features were the same. His tame hair, black as midnight, was slightly wavy and reached down just far enough to obscure his eyes. They were a light, chocolate brown with flecks of gold that sparkled when hit with sunlight; however, Harry knew of the intelligence and cunning behind those eyes. Harry's eyes traced further down Riddle's face and stopped upon his nose, which was long and perfectly shaped, resting above a pair of full petal pink lips. Harry continued down Riddle's face and came to a strong, masculine jaw line that was dotted ever so lightly with dark stubble. Apparently Riddle hadn't shaved this morning. Harry glanced back up into Riddle's eyes to find that they were staring straight back at him. Riddle slowly blinked.

And all Hell broke loose.

"Albus! You can't be serious!"

"Tom Riddle? As in, Tom Riddle the Dark Lord?"

"Are you mad!"

"They've got Dumbledore under the Imperious!"

The scraping of wooden chairs across the stone floor could be heard as Sirius and Moody abruptly stood up. Sirius banged his hands down on the table while Moody drew his wand and pointed it at the Dark Lord.

"SILENCE!"

The thick silence of before filled the Great Hall again, this time charged with crackling magic and tension. A vein pulsed on Dumbledore's left temple. "You will all remain quiet. Wands away, please." Several other members of the Order warily pocketed their wands, keeping their eyes trained on the Dark Lord. Still, the members of the Order had an undeniable trust in Dumbledore, which was probably the only thing keeping them from causing total chaos.

"As I said before, we have a situation on our hands," Dumbledore started.

"Yeah, I'd bloody well say so!" shouted Sirius. Several murmurs followed his statement.

Dumbledore continued as if Sirius had said nothing. "You all are probably questioning why Tom," (here, Voldemort's eye twitched- apparently, he still hated his muggle name.) "is here with us. He is here on peaceful terms and none of you will break that peace." Dumbledore leveled Sirius with a brief stare. The gravity of the situation struck Harry at that moment- here he was, sitting in the Great Hall with the Dark Lord. Harry hadn't seen Dumbledore act so serious since Cedric's death and he realized that for the old man to act so somber meant something must be horribly wrong.

"This morning, the Ministry received word that the Bulgarian Government has formed an alliance with both the Grecian and Macedonian Governments. For some reason, the Bulgarians have set their sights on England and have offered us an ultimatum: we must either fight or surrender our country and let these foreigners invade us. The Minister attempted to negotiate, but the Bulgarians wouldn't hear it." Dumbledore had never seemed older.

"This came from the Bulgarian Minister of Magic?" Hermione asked, a small frown creasing her forehead.

"Ah, ever the smart witch, Ms. Granger," A snort could be heard from Draco Malfoy. "but no. Three years ago, just before the Triwizard Tournament, riots broke out through all of wizarding Bulgaria. These riots quickly escalated into a civil war. A large group of terrorist wizards eventually rose to the top and are now in control. Bulgaria no longer has a Ministry of Magic; instead, it is ruled by a King: Anton Krum. As you may have guessed, Anton is Viktor's elder brother." Dumbledore explained. He paused, letting the news sink in.

"Are the Bulgarians really that much of a threat if they just came out of civil war?" Remus' hesitant voice broke through the quiet.

"Yes and no. The Bulgarians do not have enough military strength to take on all of England alone- hence the pact with Macedonia and Greece. The only thing that makes the Bulgarians themselves frightening is that they know how torn our own country is, because of their occupation here during the-" Hermione cut Dumbledore off.

"-Triwizard Tournament." Harry looked at Hermione and could almost see the wheels turning in her head. "That's the whole reason they came to the Tournament in the first place! It all makes sense- their King is Viktor's brother! They were spying on us all along!"

"Very good, Ms. Granger. Yes, I fear that the Bulgarians should be considered a threat. Their new alliance only makes them stronger- Greek wizards are known for their ancient magic." Dumbledore halted his explanations and began pacing at the front of the Great Hall.

"Well? What did Fudge do?" Sirius' voice was bitter, betraying his hatred of the Minister.

"Cornelius has declared War on Bulgaria. That is why we are here today. It will be impossible to defend our homeland against such a threat if we are also fighting our own countrymen." Now, Dumbledore's eyes seemed to come alive. He nodded his head in Riddle's direction. The Dark Lord calmly got to his feet and joined Dumbledore at the front of the hall.

Now the dark haired man took up the speech, his silky smooth voice washing over the troubled minds of the people in the hall. "I have pledged my allegiance to this cause. Though I do not share the same ideals as you, I do believe in protecting my home against a foreign invasion. My followers will also defend our country, whether they like it or not." Lucius Malfoy's eye twitched. Harry noted that all evil wizards seemed to do this when they were annoyed. _Maybe it's a side effect of all the dark magic they use._ _Or maybe Malfoy's just taken too many Crucios._

Harry was snapped out of his musings when Sirius abruptly stood up. "He's lying! There's no way he could possibly make a truce with the light!"

"I have made an unbreakable vow to Albus Dumbledore. If you think I am lying, you can ask him." Riddle's voice had dropped to a low growl.

Once again, a brief silence descended upon the room. Sirius sat back in his seat, effectively cowed by the Dark Lord. He glared at the wooden table in front of him.

"Due to the impending war, Hogwarts will be used as a fortress. The four founders blessed this place with so much magic for a reason- it was meant to defend against evil in times of need. Both the Order of the Phoenix and the Death Eaters will be residing and training here during the war. We do not have professors, so volunteers will have to teach the youngest of us how to combat. The Death Eaters will arrive tomorrow, after Mr. Riddle has had time to inform them of these new developments. There will be no fighting amongst us." Dumbledore's voice rang out into the hall with an edge of finality.

HPTRHPTRHPTRHPTRHPTRHPTR

Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat in the Gryffindor Common Room that night. Harry shivered, even though it was July- the Common Room seemed so much bigger without the hustle and bustle of the entire Gryffindor House inside it. The lonely red tapestries on the wall did not bring the warmth to the room that they usually did; instead, it seemed as if they were all that remained of a house unity that would never live again.

Hermione broke the silence in the room. "What do you guys think about everything?"

"It's a bunch of bull! There's no way the Dark Lord would pledge his allegiance to Dumbledore- even if we were going to be invaded! Dumbledore's off his rocker! Why would he go to the Dark Lord for help anyway?" Ron fumed.

"Ronald, it's not as if the Light could win this war alone. Much as I hate to admit it, we need the Death Eaters on our side." Hermione sighed. "I've read about ancient Greek magic before. It's very powerful. We're going to need all the help we can get to win this war."

"I don't care! How's Malfoy going to help us win the war anyway? He'll probably just turn his wand on the Order as soon as we hit the battlefield!" An angry flush stained Ron's cheeks.

"Ronald! Will you listen to what you're saying? Do you honestly think Malfoy wants the Bulgarians to invade our country? It's time for you to grow up and let go of a petty childhood rivalry!" Hermione had stood up sometime during her rant and was gesticulating wildly with her hands.

Ron stood up and turned on Hermione aggressively. "You're just upset because it's the Bulgarians who are invading us! What? You can't accept the fact that it was Vicky who gave them power over us in the first place? I was right about him all along! He was just using you!"

Hermione's face screwed up in anguish and she bolted out of the Common Room and up the staircase to the girls' dormitories. Ron turned to Harry, who had been silently watching the whole exchange. "Girls are crazy." He muttered, plopping back down into his chair. The two sat in silence for a few moments until Harry calmly stood up.

"I'm going to go check on Hermione and then go to bed. I suggest you go to bed soon too. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow." Harry set a foot upon the first step of the staircase leading to the girls' dormitories and, upon seeing that it did not flatten into a slide as it would have during the school year, slowly disappeared up the staircase, leaving Ron alone in the Common Room.

A/N: The plot thickens! muahahaha! Thanks to the lovely people who reviewed the prologue! I know this chapter is a bit boring... hope it didn't put you all to sleep. : )


	3. Chapter 2

A/N: I got a few questions from the reviewers, so I'll answer them (as best I can) here:

BlueEyes White Dragon Sorcerer: _Was Victor really just around Hermione for information or did he really care for her? What will happen when Tom and Harry are left alone together? Will the Malfoys continue being snots? Will there be fighting amongst the Brits even though the leaders have come to a truce? _Hmm... if I answer most of those questions, it will give away most of the plot... but I will say that part of the answers regarding the Malfoys and the fighting amongst the Brits is in this chapter. Also, I haven't decided about Viktor yet. I'll probably decide muuuuuchhhh later in the story, or maybe sometime I'll take a vote.

Source of Silence: _So, will this be a Harry/ Voldemort deal, or what? _You bet!

WhiteAngelAriah92: _What time is this set in? What book does it come after?_ This is set during the summer after the 5th book, so Harry has just turned 16. I'm completely disregarding the 6th book (hence my alive!Dumbledore). I made a little modification to the events of the 5th book, though. Sirius didn't die and Lucius Malfoy wasn't thrown in Azkaban.

Thanks so much to all the rest of the reviewers! I hope you guys continue reading and liking my story! Your support means a lot to me.

And a final note: I'm a new author and I am also beta-less. So if you see any mistakes, I apologise. Also, I apologise for such a long Author's Note. Without further ado, here's chapter 2! (hehe I made a rhyme)

The Disclaimer from the prologue applies.

**Chapter 2:**

"Harry! Harry, get up!" Harry groaned in annoyance and batted away the hand that poked him, rolling over in bed and pulling the covers up above his head.

The room was silent for a moment and Harry, thinking that his tormenter had gone away, gratefully snuggled deeper into the warmth his bed provided. Suddenly, the covers were yanked from his grasp and the chilly morning air met Harry's skin. He shot straight up in bed and shivered, blinking owlishly. "Wassamatter?"

Hermione stood at the foot of Harry's four poster bed, trying to stifle her giggles with one hand and holding his bedclothes in the other. She privately thought that Harry looked adorable, sitting in bed in his muggle Scooby-Doo boxers and tiredly rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

"Harry, it's 10:30. We need to head down for breakfast." He grumbled and got out of bed, grabbing a change of clothes and heading into the bathroom. He came out a moment later wearing a pair of faded jeans and a navy blue t-shirt, both of which actually fit him. He dug around in his trunk for a moment, before finding a pair of dirty black canvas sneakers (also known as converse) and slipping them on his feet.

When Harry was finally ready, he and Hermione started towards the Great Hall, before Harry stopped in his tracks and turned to Hermione. "Where's Ron?"

Hermione grimaced, obviously still upset with Ron, but answered anyway. "He went to breakfast with Fred and George earlier this morning. Seemed keen to avoid me."

Harry nodded in understanding and resumed walking down the hallway. "It'll be okay," he comforted. "Ron's just gone into shock. He'll get over it soon enough."

Hermione chewed on her bottom lip and muttered, "I sure hope so."

When they had reached the Great Hall, Harry pulled the massive doors open and almost couldn't believe what he saw. The four house tables were back in their normal positions and full to the brim. What would have been the Slytherin and Ravenclaw tables were occupied with death eaters. All of them were wearing their black death eater robes (without the masks, thank goodness), and were silently eating breakfast as if being in the room with their greatest enemies was an everyday occurrence. The Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables housed the Order members, who were wearing either casual robes or muggle clothing. They, however, were quietly whispering amongst themselves and shooting suspicious glances towards the other side of the hall.

For the most part, the Great Hall was quiet, except for the clinking of silverware against plates and the odd whisper. It was a strained silence; as if the two parties would be tearing each others' heads off if they could, but held back for their respective leaders.

"When did they get here?" Harry's question was a whisper.

Hermione quietly answered him. "I'm not sure. Probably sometime this morning."

The two friends walked over to the Order's side of the room and sat down at the end of the Gryffindor House table next to Lupin and Sirius. Lupin's robes were shabby as ever and he had dark circles under his eyes. _But last night wasn't a full moon! Remus must be really worried about all this business. I can't exactly blame him… _

Harry looked down the length of the table and saw Ron sitting between the twins. He didn't seem to be eating with as much gusto as he usually did; in fact, he seemed a bit depressed. The red head looked up and, upon seeing Harry staring at him, quickly changed his expression into one of distaste. _Ah, he's still upset then. We've known about this war for a day and already it's tearing us apart._

Harry shrugged, knowing that Ron would come around eventually, and turned to his own bowl of porridge which had appeared sometime during his musings. Though he wasn't very hungry, Harry lazily began spooning it into his mouth, knowing he'd regret it later if he didn't eat. He saw Hermione doing the same out of the corner of his eye.

About halfway through his meal, Harry felt the odd prickling on the back of his neck that meant he was being stared at. He set his spoon down and slowly turned around, instantly meeting a pair of light brown eyes. He raised an eyebrow in question, but the Dark Lord merely raised the corners of his lips in a small smile and lifted his cup to Harry before slowly taking a drink from it.

Harry hurriedly turned back around in his seat, heart beating a mile a minute. Sirius seemed to notice his godson's discomfort and slung an arm around his shoulders. "It's okay, Harry. Don't be scared of those barbaric, blood-sucking Death Eaters. They can't get to you while I'm around." He said, mistaking Harry's confusion for fear.

Harry smiled gratefully at him, touched that his godfather would protect him if he needed it. "Thanks, Siri."

"No problem, kiddo. Now, as fun as eating in the same room with a bunch of murderers has been, I'm going to go run around for a bit, get my mind off things. Wana come, Remus?" The werewolf (who up to that point had been silent) shook his head.

"No thanks, Siri. I'm a bit tired." Sirius shrugged and got up from the table, giving Harry's shoulder a squeeze before walking away.

Harry turned around, watching his godfather walk out of the hall and noticed that Lucius Malfoy had departed his own table at the same time. The two men approached the door at the simultaneously and glared coldly at each other before walking out of the Great Hall, the doors closing soundly behind them.

Though Harry considered Lucius Malfoy one of the most immoral men on the planet, he doubted that the blonde would try to harm his godfather with a room full of members of the Order of the Phoenix right behind him. Not to mention the fact that his very own leader, the Dark Lord, had forbidden violence between the two groups inhabiting the castle. Malfoy may be evil, but Harry knew that the man had a good head on his shoulders.

Harry vaguely heard Lupin and Hermione begin a conversation and tuned in. "Professor Lupin, what do you think about everything that's happening?" Hermione seemed interested.

"To tell you the truth, I'm not quite sure. I don't really know what to expect, living in the castle with the Death Eaters," Lupin sighed. "I've been thinking all night, trying to figure out another way to get out of this war alive. But I don't think Dumbledore would have made an alliance with the Dark if it wasn't absolutely necessary."

"What about finding another ally? Couldn't we have just gone to the vampires or werewolves? Giants, even? And what about the Ministry?" Harry asked. The way he saw it, any ally would be better than the Death Eaters.

"I've thought about that too, Harry. I doubt the werewolves would have allied themselves with us if the Dark Lord hadn't- after all, the Dark Lord has Fenrir Greyback on his side. Most werewolves wouldn't dare contradict him. The vampires would just refuse us; they're immortal and don't like to get involved is such 'trivial' things as wars. As for the giants: they wouldn't ally themselves with anyone either. Either way, they live in the mountains and aren't under the jurisdiction of the Ministry of Magic, so it doesn't matter to them who's in charge." Remus sighed. It was obvious to Harry that he had given it much thought.

"But what about the Ministry? Surely even someone as thick as Fudge would realize what a threat the Bulgarians are." Hermione almost seemed as if she were pleading.

Lupin scoffed. "This war gives Fudge even more reason to separate himself from Dumbledore. If people see Dumbledore leading us all into battle and winning, they'll want him as Minister and Fudge'll be out of a job. The Ministry will fight on their own, but it'll be harder to win this war if we aren't working together- which we won't be." He scrubbed at his face with his hands and pushed his bowl of porridge away from him.

"Ron reckons the Death Eaters are just here to get dirt on us. He thinks they'll betray us." Harry said tentatively. He didn't want to upset professor Lupin; the man had enough on his shoulders already.

Lupin looked down the table at Ron and then turned back to Hermione and Harry. "Listen, you two. I can't tell Ron what to do, but I want both of you to stay out of trouble. You're sixteen now; you can handle yourselves. Just make sure to pay attention in the lessons you'll be having soon and promise me you won't go around provoking the Death Eaters. Last thing we need right now is to be fighting with eacho-" Lupin was cut off when a commotion was heard from the hallway.

Everyone in the hall seemed to react to the noises coming from the hallway at the same time. As one, the people in the room stood and moved out of the Great Hall and into the entrance hall. The army of black-robed people mixed in with the rest, all fighting to get through the huge oak doors.

Harry, Hermione, and Lupin pushed their way through the crowd, trying to see what the commotion was. Hermione and Lupin stopped in their tracks for a moment and both of their eyes bugged; apparently, they could see over the heads of the people at the front. Harry, being the shortest of the three, could only see the backs of peoples' robes. "What? What is it?" Harry asked Hermione.

"Oh, my! Sirius!" Hermione cried. Lupin seemed to snap out of the daze he had been in and tried with renewed vigor to force his way to the front.

"What? What about Sirius?" Harry was shouting above the clamor now, trying to get an answer out of Hermione. "HERMIONE!"

"Harry, follow me!" Hermione fought through the crowd in the direction that Lupin had gone and Harry quickly followed, miffed that she wouldn't answer his questions.

Harry reached the front of the throng of people and shoved someone aside- he vaguely recognized the person as Macnair- and finally saw what had happened.

Sirius and Lucius Malfoy were struggling to get to each other and both were being held back (Sirius by Charlie Weasley and Malfoy by Snape). Both their faces were bloodied and the front of Sirius' robe was torn open, as was the skin beneath- a slashing hex. Lucius Malfoy looked rather worse for wear: his blonde hair was streaked with blood and he looked as though his left arm was broken. It seemed that the two had abandoned their wands halfway through the fight and opted to use their fists instead.

Dumbledore stood between the two with both their wands in his hand. He screamed out into the entrance hall, trying in vain to get everyone to settle down. The old man shot red sparks out of the tip of his wand; still, the hall did not quiet.

The sound in the hallway had swelled to a deafening roar; people were now fighting with each other and clamoring to get to the front of the crowd. Harry saw a rather undignified looking Tom Riddle stumble out of the throng of people and giggled. His usually tame hair was slightly mussed and his rumpled robes were crooked. The man, though he looked rather harassed at the moment, still had an aura of power surrounding him. He was tall, probably about 6'3" or 6'4"- about a head taller than Harry's 5'4". The way he moved screamed power; Harry could see his muscles moving beneath his black robes. Harry did not like the man (They were supposed to kill each other!), but even he could admit that Riddle was easy on the eyes.

Riddle stopped next to Dumbledore and surveyed the scene before him. The old man turned to him and said something- Harry couldn't hear what- and Riddle turned to address the still-fighting crowd. "Silence yourselves." As if someone had cast _silencio_ on the crowd, the hall was quiet. Harry's ears rang from the unexpected silence and he wondered how the Dark Lord had shut up the throng of people with only two words, while Dumbledore had waved and jumped and screamed and no one had listened.

"What has happened here?" The Dark Lord questioned, though it was entirely obvious.

Sirius blundered for a moment before Lucius Malfly bowed his head and addressed his master. "This _mut_," he sneered, "attacked me after I left breakfast."

"That's not true!" Sirius protested hotly, "He attacked me!" Malfoy scoffed at his statement and the two lunged for each other again, just barely restrained by Charlie and Snape.

"I see." said Riddle. He turned to Malfoy. "Lucius, I will deal with your punishment later. Return to your room now." Dumbledore handed him his wand and the blonde bowed his head. He limped off into the crowd, having the grace to look slightly ashamed of himself- something Harry though he would never see.

Dumbledore turned to Sirius. "I would like you to also return to your rooms. Maybe check with Poppy later to see about healing that scratch you have there." Sirius wiped a bit of blood off of his face using his sleeve and took his wand from the Headmaster before heading off in a similar fashion.

"You may all go back into the Great Hall." The Dark Lord addressed the crowd. "But be warned; I will not tolerate any violence again. We are here to work together, not harm each other. If we cannot work together, all our lives are forfeit." The people in the crowd guiltily shuffled off.

"Harry? May I have a word with you in my office, please?" Harry turned around to face Dumbledore and Riddle. He nodded, following them through the corridors.

HPTRHPTRHPTRHPTRHPTRHPTR

Harry sat uncomfortably in Dumbledore's office next to Tom Riddle. The three men had trekked to the Headmaster's office in silence. Dumbledore had offered them both tea and lemon drops, to which they both accepted and declined, respectively. Harry looked to the side and focused on the whizzing silver gadgets that Dumbledore had around his office; he was intent on avoiding the two men until either of them talked.

Dumbledore sat behind his desk, fingers steepled. He carefully regarded to two men in front of him before speaking. "Harry, I've brought you here to discuss your willingness to fight."

Harry brought his attention to the old man. "What do you mean? Why wouldn't I fight?"

"Harry… You're going to be one of the key players in this war. We all know that," Dumbledore started gently. "But there are going to be people who are very keen on killing you. Though you are loved by many, there are also a great many who do not share that love. I wish to offer you the chance not to fight."

"Not fight? Why would I not fight? I'm just as much a part of this as everyone else! I won't sit here in safety while my best friends risk their lives for our country!" Harry's green eyes blazed with courage and bravado.

The Dark Lord regarded Harry for a moment before speaking. "Harry, no one would think you a coward if you didn't fight." Riddle's voice washed over Harry and his heart sped up. The man's voice was a deep, soothing bass.

"Why wouldn't you want me to fight? Wouldn't it be to your advantage if I died? You're supposed to kill me! I'm supposed to kill you! I'm Harry Potter! You know, the Boy-Who-Lived?" Harry incredulously shouted. _Is he totally off his rocker!_

Dumbledore fixed his baby blue eyes on Harry before speaking. "Harry… I think we made a mistake with the prophecy." Harry's teacup fell from his hands and shattered on the floor.


	4. Chapter 3

A/N: I'm baaaaaaack! Sorry this took so long to get out; I was at the beach! I had limited internet access and every time I sat down and tried to write something, I'd zone out. Sososo sorry! I'm going back to the beach tomorrow, so I'll have limited internet access once again. I'm not sure when I'll get back, but I'm going to try to update sometime within the week.

This chapter is dedicated to Lady Draculea, who typed out a loooong review, only to have it die and had to type it out again AND WhatSrName for caring enough about this story to track me down on ff becuase my account on aff died... lol, you guys rock.

This chapter was beta'd by the lovely MysticSilverAngel! Props!

Lastly, thanks to all my reviewers! Your encouragement has kept me writing this story and given me the inspiration to continue. I'm amazed that my story has been so well-recieved! Thanks, guys!

**Chapter 3:**

Harry stared at Dumbledore, an angry snarl making its way onto his face. "Mistake? What do you mean, you made a mistake?" His voice, though normal in volume, was laced with fury.

"It seems that I have mistakenly interpreted the prophecy." The old man's voice was slow and deliberate, as if he were choosing his words very carefully.

"Harry… please don't be angry with Albus," the Dark Lord fixed his dark eyes on Harry. The green eyes boy felt his anger dampen immediately. "None of us could have known until very recently."

Harry closed his eyes in frustration and took a deep breath. "What, exactly, is wrong with the interpretation of the prophecy? It made enough sense to me the way it was!"

Dumbledore hesitated, then stood from his chair and slowly walked over to an ornate black wooden cabinet. The door opened with a creak, and Dumbledore reached into it. When his hands came back out, they held a shallow stone basin. It had magical runes and symbols carved along the outside and cast a weak white light on the headmaster's wizened face. The old man's wrinkled hands gently cradled the bowl until he placed it on the table in front of Harry. Harry leaned forward, looking into the bowl, and was met with a white, swirling substance. It could be described as neither liquid nor air and occasionally pictures floated to the surface of the basin. After a moment, Harry realized that he was looking at Dumbledore's pensieve.

The headmaster tapped the side of the stone container with his wand and a translucent figure slowly emerged from the swirling depths. The figure was blurred at first, but eventually formed into the shape of Harry's Divination teacher, Professor Trelawney. Dozens of rattling strings of beads hung from her pale neck. Her overly large glasses made her eyes seem huge and round, and she was shrouded in the multiple shawls which hung off of her thin, spindly frame. Harry realized that he had seen this memory only months before, after the Department of Mysteries fiasco. The younger Trelawney's body shook, as if she were heading into a seizure; she opened her mouth, her soft, misty voice floating out into Dumbledore's office. "The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord Approaches…. Born to those who have thrice defied him, bored as the seventh month dies… and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not… and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives… the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies…" The memory dissolved into clear air once again, leaving the round office in silence.

"I don't understand why the prophecy is any different now. It's just the same as it was the last time you showed it to me." Harry's flat voice seemed almost defiant.

"Ah, Harry, but the meaning is different now!" Dumbledore urged; he almost seemed excited. His blue eyes twinkled with a hidden knowledge that irritated Harry to no end.

"I don't understand. It says 'neither can live while the other survives!' Doesn't that mean that we still have to kill each other?" Harry's face reflected his bewilderment.

"Potter, what makes you so sure that 'the other' is me and you? What if it was referring to someone else?" Riddle's questioning voice butted in.

Harry glanced at the Dark Lord, feeling heat rise up in his cheeks; his name rolled smoothly off the dark man's tongue. "I… I… why would it be someone else? The whole damned prophecy is about you and me!" Harry inwardly cursed himself for stuttering.

The two older man ignored Harry's foul language. "Perhaps 'the other' is referring to a bigger threat? The Bulgarians, maybe?" Dumbledore hinted.

"But it said that I have the power to vanquish the Dark Lord! Why would it be talking about the Bulgarians then?" Harry's frustration leaked out into his voice.

"The prophecy says that you have the power to destroy me, not that you will. Harry, the prophecy is urging us to team up against the Bulgarians." Suddenly, Harry's anger was back. "If we don't, this war might be lost before it even begins." Riddle's voice had the same commanding tone that it had held in the Great Hall; still, Harry's anger boiled.

"Harry, you still don't have to fight. As I said before, the Bulgarians will be particularly eager to kill you before you have the chance to seriously damage their forces. You can still back out now. Tom (Voldemort's eye twitched) will be training and fighting on our side, so there is no reason for you to be fighting if you do not want to. All I ask is that you do not intentionally hinder him." Dumbledore said.

All of a sudden, Harry's anger reached the boiling point. "So, you're basically telling me that _his_ (Harry jabbed a finger in Voldemort's direction) attempts on my life were all for nothing? You expect me to just nod my head and say 'okay'? I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU! I'VE BEEN LIVING IN HELL FOR SIXTEEN YEARS BECAUSE YOU MISINTERPRETED A FEW WORDS FROM A CRAZY OLD COW? MY PARENTS _DIED _BECAUSE OF THAT PROPHECY!" Sometime in the middle of his tirade, Harry had stood up from his chair, knocking it over backwards. His verdant eyes filled with angry tears and he shot the headmaster an incredulous look, before turning around and bolting from the circular office.

HPTRHPTRHPTRHPTRHPTRHPTR

Harry flew through the air at an alarming speed, barely noticing the rate at which the ground of the Quidditch Pitch below him whizzed by. He made several aggressive barrel rolls, before swiftly plunging the nose of his broomstick towards the ground and shooting straight down through the air. He pulled his stick up at the last second, barely missing certain death by way of collision. Harry shot straight up into the air again, soaring higher and higher with each passing second. He leveled off again and plunged into a series of short, quick turns, gripping his broomstick tightly with both hands. His face was slick with sweat, bangs sticking to his forehead. Harry's glasses slid down to the bottom of his nose, precariously hanging on, but he couldn't find it in himself to care.

After leaving the headmaster's office, Harry had run to his dormitory and grabbed his beloved Firebolt. He hadn't even bothered to take the stairs outside, preferring instead to jump out of the dormitory window, free-falling for a few seconds before gaining control of his broom and shooting off to the pitch. Hermione would have had a heart attack, but Harry had been too upset to do anything different. He had needed some form of emotional release after talking with Dumbledore and the Dark Lord… flying had seemed to be the obvious choice.

Draco Malfoy wandered onto the pitch, Nimbus 2001 in hand. He noticed a speck in the air, flying around at what looked like the speed of light, and inconspicuously hid behind the bleachers until he could tell who the aforementioned speck was. He watched as it plummeted to the ground and then pulled up sharply, zooming his direction. Draco watched as the figure got closer and closer and realized that it was Potter. Thankfully, the boy seemed too distracted by his flying to notice that he had a hidden spectator.

Draco decided that now would be a good time to get on good footing with Potter, as no one was around. He had decided in the dark of his bedroom the night before, after he had found out that the dark and the light would be cooperating, that it would be a good chance to get close to Potter. After all, he had always been drawn to the boy for reasons unknown.

Draco stepped out onto the pitch and mounted his Nimbus 2001, before joining Potter in the air. He glided through the air and stopped a good 30 feet away from the dark haired boy.

"Oi! Potter!" Harry startled and turned around when he heard someone call his name.

He saw Draco Mafloy casually sitting on his broom a few yards away and mentally groaned his annoyance. He just wanted to be alone right now.

"Want to play a little Quidditch? One-on-one?" The Malfoy boy asked.

Harry thought it over for a second, before nodding his consent. He needed to be on friendlier terms with the Death Eaters; after all, they would be sharing a home for an indefinite period of time. Also, chasing the snitch with tough competition could be just what he needed to work off stress.

The blonde grinned and reached his hand into the pocket of his trousers, his hand returning with a small golden ball clasped in it. He unclenched his fingers and the ball jumped in his palm, before two small wings materialized and fluttered a few times, before it flew off into the distance.

The boys waited in silence for a few seconds before nodding to each other and circling around the pitch a few times, eyes trained for the little ball. Harry slowly floated towards the goal posts and surveyed the entire pitch, before zooming higher and resuming his search.

The two boys continued like this for about twenty minutes, until Harry's eye caught a flash of Gold just about the ground near the opposite goal post. Harry glanced over to Malfoy, who was positioned closer to the speedy little ball. Seeing that the other boy had spotted it too, he rushed off towards the ball at breakneck speed, just behind Malfoy. Harry quickly caught up with his blonde haired counterpart and the two were neck and neck as they sped towards the golden snitch.

They were only at the half mark of the pitch, when Malfoy surprised Harry by speaking. "I'm going to win this time, Potter! Run, run as fast as you can! You can't catch me; I'm the ginger bread man!"

Harry's eyes widened comically, before he burst out in laughter at the blonde's statement. He faltered in his speed for a moment, giving Draco a small lead. Harry quickly realized his mistake and urged his broom fast, still giggling uncontrollably.

The two were now closing in on the snitch, two horizontal blurs on the pitch. They were five feet away now- four, three, two, one. The two dove from their brooms in the direction of the snitch and the blonde's fingers curled around the little ball, before both of the teens slammed to the ground- hard. Even through the impact, Harry sat on the sand below the goal posts, giggling his head off. Malfoy sat there next to him, snitch in hand. Harry stifled his giggles for a moment. He turned to Malfoy and held out his hand. "Great game, Malfoy."

Draco grinned and took the offered hand. "Not too bad, yourself." The two let go of each other's hands and sat in silence for a moment, before both of them collapsed in snorts of laughter.

"I- didn't know you- knew- muggle fairytales" Harry gasped through his laughter.

"Hey! Watch what you call muggle! Those fairytales were made by purebloods, thank-you-very-much!" Draco said mock-indignantly.

"Really? I never knew…" Harry trailed off

"Yep. They must have spread to muggles through mudbloods." Harry frowned at the other wizard's use of the word, but didn't say anything about it. The blonde had probably done it out of habit anyway.

"Maybe," he replied. Harry stood up, dusting his jeans off, and offered a hand to Malfoy. The blonde took Harry's hand and used it to hoist himself off of the ground. He let go of Harry's hand and picked his broom up from the ground. He turned towards the castle.

"I'm going to go inside now. It's almost time for lunch," Malfoy said over his shoulder. "Want to come?"

Harry grabbed his Firebolt from the ground and nodded, jogging to catch up with Malfoy. "So, why so friendly all of a sudden?" Harry was genuinely curious.

"Well, I figured that I should try to be civil with everyone else. After all, we're going to be fighting on the same side of the war. There's no point in fighting with each other anymore." The blonde wisely said.

Harry nodded his agreement. "Yeah, I think so too. I'm not so sure the others share our view though."

"They'll come around eventually. I don't know about Dumbledore, but the Dark Lord won't tolerate anymore fighting amongst us. Father's dead scared about his punishment." It almost seemed as if Draco thought it amusing that his high and mighty father was scared about his punishment, as if he were a four year old waiting to be sentenced to time-out.

"I sure hope they'll come around," Harry muttered, thinking of Ron.

The two reached the doors of the Great Hall and parted ways, exchanging short goodbyes.

HPTRHPTRHPTRHPTRHPTRHPTR

Harry wandered inside the Great Hall after taking a shower. He sat down at the end of the Gryffindor table, next to Hermione and, surprisingly, Seamus and Dean. "When did you two get here?" Harry asked.

"Me Mum decided tha' Dumbledore'd do a better job o' fightin' this war than the Minister, so we just got here 'bout an hour ago" Seamus said, his Irish accent thick.

"Me too. I talked to Neville earlier through the floo; he said he'd be coming sometime this week." Dean added.

Harry nodded to the two of them and grabbed a ham sandwich off of the pile in the middle of the table. He had just bitten into it, when suddenly a scroll appeared in front of him. Looking to his two companions, Harry noticed that scrolls had also appeared in front of them.

Harry sat his sandwich down and took the scroll in his hands. He carefully broke the Hogwarts seal and unrolled it. It seemed to be a list of classes.

The list read as follows:

Defense Against the Dark Arts: R. Lupin

Dark Arts: L. Malfoy and B. Lestrange

Physical Combat: T. Riddle and B. Weasley

Potions: S. Snape

Archery/Swordsmanship: T. Riddle and C. Weasley

Charms: F. Flitwick

Transfiguration: M. McGonagall

Harry looked up from his list to find Seamus and Dean glaring down at their parchments. Hermione, though, looked rather excited to be able to learn in the summer.

"We have even more classes than normal!" Dean groaned, slamming his head down on the table.

"Why are we learning the Dark Arts?" Harry wondered aloud.

"I suppose it will help in battle. And it can't be that bad, as long as we don't learn any unforgivables." Hermione's answer was timid and pondering, as if she was trying to convince herself instead of Harry.

Harry nodded his agreement. "We have to be taught by Malfoy's dad though. Not to mention Snape and Voldemort." Harry was definitely not looking forward to his classes.

"Yes, that is rather unfortunate. But look on the bright side! We also get to have Lupin and Bill and Charlie as teachers!" Harry brightened at Hermione's comment. He had always thought Ron's older brothers were nice. And Lupin had been a great teacher when they had had him in third year.

"Yeah, I don't suppose it'll be too bad then." He murmured. He just hoped he'd be able to survive two classes with the Dark Lord.

A/N: Sorry if you guys hated the ginger bread man thing. I HAD to do it. giggles


	5. Chapter 4

A/N: Hey all! Well, I'm back with another chapter! Woohoo! Thanks to all those who reviewed the last chapter! You guys rock!

Some people have asked about other pairings in the story. To tell the truth… I don't know what I'm going to do. This story is kinda just writing itself as it goes along, so nothing is set in stone.

A big thanks to MysticSilverAngel for being my beta!

Disclaimer from the prologue applies.

**Chapter 4:**

Harry and Hermione somberly trotted down the corridor to their first summer class, which was, unfortunately, Dark Arts. Harry lagged a bit behind Hermione, his steps slow and sluggish; he had been dreading this class all week. He briefly pondered on the sanity of whoever decided to let Lucius Malfoy loose in a room full of relatively harmless teenagers.

Before he knew it, Harry was standing in front of the wooden door that opened into the Dark Arts classroom which, as far as Harry knew, had been an unused classroom until now. It was a short, wide door, made of dark ebony. Harry gulped- even the _door _intimidated him. He couldn't wait to see what was actually _inside_ the classroom. His hand timidly reached out and pushed the door open with a creak. Harry and Hermione slowly shuffled into the classroom.

It was large and badly lit. The only source of light in the room came from small torches; they cast menacing shadows along the walls which flickered and danced in continuous movement. Though there were windows, they were closed off with thick, heavy curtains, blocking the sunlight from view. It was as if Malfoy had wanted the room to be as frightening as possible. Shelves lined one wall of the classroom; different sized bottles and jars sat upon them. Harry couldn't recognize anything in any of the bottles until, about halfway down the row, Harry saw a large, clear jar, which held dozens of what were unmistakably _human_ hands. Harry decided he was glad that he didn't know what the other jars held.

Their peers seemed to all already be inside the classroom. Harry realized, with a start, that these were the people that he would be fighting alongside with for the duration of the war. There weren't many of them. Ron, Hermione, Seamus, Dean, Neville (who had arrived two days ago), Ginny (who was the only fifth year in the castle), Malfoy, Zabini, Nott, Parkinson, Crabbe, Goyle, and himself: these were the only minors who had taken it upon themselves to fight. _Interesting, _Harry thought, _we're all Gryffindor or Slytherin. _Harry knew that he would be taking classes with only these twelve people for an indefinite period of time; he knew that they would be his only companions, his only friends. Perhaps he'd see some of them die. Perhaps some of them would see _him _die.

That idea scared Harry shitless.

Harry's ponderings were interrupted when Hermione tugged at his sleeve, leading him over to the last two seats in the room. Harry sat down next to Hermione. Seamus was on his other side. He offered a shaky smile to the Irish boy, who barely smiled back.

Suddenly, the torches blazed brighter, shining more light into the classroom. A figure, shrouded in shadow, slowly slunk forth from a corner of the room. The shadows dissipated from around him as if he were removing a cloak, revealing shining blonde hair, ice blue eyes, and thin lips. Malfoy offered them a malicious smile, his thin lips stretching over his teeth and his eyes glinting.

"Thank you, Potter and Granger, for joining us." The blonde's sarcastic comment was barely louder than a whisper, but somehow everyone in the room heard it. No one moved. No one spoke. No one _breathed. _

"Now that we're all _here_," Lucius' malevolent eyes flicked over to Harry and Hermione, "I'd like you introduce you all to the wonderful world of the Dark Arts."

Harry looked around and noted that the Gryffindors seemed far more anxious than the Slytherins. Ron's foot jangled on the floor below him; Hermione picked at a loose thread on her robes. Poor Neville looked a bit green around the edges- Harry hoped he wouldn't faint.

Harry glanced to the Slytherin side of the room, catching the light gray eyes of Draco. His new friend offered him a small smile and turned back to the front of the classroom.

The elder Malfoy walked around to the side of the classroom, reaching into one of the jars. When he removed his hand, he was grasping a spider. Harry realized that Malfoy planned on repeating Mad-Eye Moody's performance in their fourth year. Hermione must have realized it too, because she sucked in a breath and looked worriedly at Neville.

Malfoy walked back to the front of the classroom, spider in hand. The spider was large and still. Its wiry legs were unmoving striped with orange. Harry noticed that Ron carried a horrified expression and his body was tense, ready to bolt out the door at any moment if need be.

Malfoy addressed the class. "I know that most of you were introduced to these curses in your fourth year, but I think it's about time for a little… _refresher_." He seemed entirely too gleeful. "Can anyone tell me about the first unforgivable curse? Draco?"

All eyes in the room flicked from father to son. "It's the imperious curse," the junior Malfoy started, "it allowed the caster to control the victim."

"Yeah, of course he'd know…" Ron grumbled under his breath. Ginny, who was seated next to him, elbowed him discreetly in the ribs.

The elder Malfoy either didn't hear Ron's comment or chose to ignore it. "That's correct. Very good, Draco." He took his wand out from underneath his robes and aimed at the spider. "_Imperio_!"

The spider leapt from Malfoy's hand onto Parkinson's desk. She let out a fearful shriek and scooted her stool back as far as it could go. The spider skittered over to Zabini's desk (the boy looked relatively unaffected) before crouching low and springing onto the desk behind Zabini- Ron's. The redhead let out a shriek which was, embarrassingly enough, higher pitched than Parkinson's. He stood up from his chair so quickly that it fell over and ran in a full sprint from his desk to the opposite side of the room.

At the front of the room, Lucius Malfoy rolled his eyes and ordered the spider back to his hand. It pounced from desk to desk, finally landing back into Malfoy's palm. Ron, seeing that the spider was a safe distance away, slowly walked back to his desk and sat down. His face burned a deep red, the flush making its way to the tips of his ears.

"I don't know how you expect to battle bloodthirsty wizards, _Weasley, _if you can't even stomach a spider." A cruel, mocking voice came from the very back of the classroom. The students turned around in unison.

The woman who stood there was tall and slim. Her dark hair shone brightly in the light and her dark eyes glittered with a touch of insanity. The woman's slender, bony hand clutched her wand tightly as she surveyed the children before her. She chewed on a blood red bottom lip as her eyes fixed on Harry. They lingered on him for a moment, before she looked away from him and instead fixed her calculating gaze on Lucius Malfoy. For some reason, Harry was wary of this woman- though she had done nothing to him yet, he decided that her suspicious aura reeked of malevolent intention. "Sorry I'm late, Lucius. Had a little- erm- situation to deal with."

"Quite alright, Bellatrix. I was just about to show them the second unforgivable. Perhaps you'd like to…?" Malfoy left his question open-ended.

"Of course, of course! It would be my pleasure." The woman, who Harry discovered was his other professor, gracefully swept to the front of the classroom. "Good, good. Now, who can tell me about the second unforgivable? Longbottom, perhaps?" Harry promptly decided that his intuition was right: she _was_ a heinous bitch.

"It's the- the Cruciatus curse, sir. It- it causes pain to the victim." Neville's voice seemed small and quiet and it made Harry's blood boil.

Without warning, Lestrange leveled her wand on the spider in Malfoy's palm. "_Crucio_!"

It seemed to Harry that she had uttered the word with far too much gusto.

The spider shrieked and recoiled, its spindly legs folding under itself. It twitched violently and jerked around in Malfoy's palm, the incessant screaming never ending. The long legs bowed up above the body, stretching impossibly far in the creature's agony. The leg joints strained and slackened alternately. Harry looked upon the spider with pity; he knew what it felt like. Even Ron, with his hatred and fear of spiders, had an expression of pity written across his face.

Lestrange ended the curse reluctantly and the spider instantly relaxed. Its small body still twitched in pain, but its stance had loosened. It now lay sprawled across Malfoy's palm, squeaking in relief. Now Harry pitied the spider even more; it had no idea what was coming next.

"Okay, now for the final curse. Anyone want to tell me what that is? Potter?" Lestrange was almost panting; Harry was sickened that the woman sounded as if she had been in ecstasy whilst performing the curse.

"It's the killing curse." His reply was clipped and short.

Her blood red lips curved skyward in a sickening grin, before she aimed her wand at the spider, which was still unmoving. "_Avada Kedavra_!"

All it took was a flash of emerald light and what sounded like something large and invisible heading through the air towards the spider, and the small life was gone. The tiny body lay in Malfoy's hand, upturned onto its back. The long legs were spread in all directions and twitched no more with pain. Harry felt a lump in his throat as he looked at the small spider. Was that what his parents had looked like? Had they, too, been blasted onto their backs by that curse? Harry could see them in his mind's eye now: they lay unmoving on the ground, glassy, emotionless eyes turned towards heaven. The lump grew and grew, until Harry had to clench his eyes tightly to ward off the oncoming tears.

Once he had gotten his emotions under control, Harry looked up again. Everyone in the class was just as still and quiet as he had been. They still stared at the spider.

HPTRHPTRHPTRHPTRHPTRHPTR

"Hey Harry, wait up!" Harry turned around on his way downstairs and saw Malfoy waving his hands and running after him.

He urged Hermione to go to the Great Hall for lunch without him and she did, after shooting Harry a worried look.

The blonde caught up to him and smiled, now walking alongside Harry at a normal pace. "Do you want to take a walk outside or something?" His invitation sounded good to Harry, who nodded gratefully.

Once they were outside, the two began walking through the gardens outside the castle. "Listen, I'm really sorry about my dad and Bellatrix. What they did was terrible- making you and Longbottom answer those questions."

"It's okay… I know it wasn't your fault. I'm fine, and Neville will be alright." Harry wasn't so sure about the last part, but he wouldn't let the blonde know that.

"I saw you, you know… after they did it. You looked pretty upset. Do you need to… I dunno… talk about it, or anything?" A light pink dusted the blonde's cheeks after his statement. He seemed embarrassed about something.

Harry slumped against the outside wall of the castle, feeling the lump rise in his throat again. He took a quick look around them and noticed that they were obscured by bushes and trees. The lump finally decided to burst and Harry's throat closed up tight. His eyes stung and watered, before the dam broke and salty tears splashed over his cheeks and down his chin. He hadn't meant to break down in front of the Malfoy boy, but the scene in the classroom had really gotten to him. "It was so small… dead… and my pa-parents probably looked that way too. It's like… like they never even mattered. How can… how can she just kill something like that? And they didn't have to die either! The pro-prophecy… wrong… wrong… small… dead."

At first, Draco didn't know what to do. He stood next to the weeping boy, confused as hell. Then, he reached over and slid an arm around the other boy's lower back. He hugged Harry's body close to his own, running his hands through the boy's shining midnight locks. Harry clutched Draco's robes and whimpered softly, tears still streaking his handsome face.

Draco didn't know what possessed him to do it. He hadn't had some long-time, pent up lust for the boy. He was most _definitely _not in love with the boy. But something possessed him all the same. He removed his hand from the boy's raven locks and tilted the shorter boy's face up to his. Harry's eyes looked huge and wet and green; the sparkled in the sunlight and would have been beautiful if not for the sadness within them. All Draco knew was that one moment, he was standing awkwardly next to a sobbing boy, and the next moment, his lips were softly pressed against the other boy's.

Instead of pulling away, as he expected Harry to do- hell, he wouldn't have blamed him, either!- the boy returned the kiss by pressing his lips back against Draco's. The kiss was slow and comforting; Draco took the lead and moved his lips sensually against Harry's in an open mouthed kiss. Harry's eyes fluttered closed and the side of Draco's nose rubbed against his own. The blonde's hand massaged slow circles onto Harry's lower back while clutching Harry's body closer to his own; his other hand rubbed the sensitive skin behind Harry's ear. Malfoy's tongue hesitantly dipped into the other boy's mouth. It was soft and warm as it rubbed with Harry's own tongue. His tongue curled around Harry's and coaxed it into the blonde's own mouth. He sucked on Harry's tongue lightly, earning himself a weak whimper from the other boy.

Suddenly, as if realizing just _what _he was doing, Harry broke the kiss and took a step away from Malfoy. "What… what was that?" He looked adorably confused.

Malfoy backed up against the wall and sunk down onto the ground. "I don't know. I swear I didn't plan on doing that."

Harry sat down on the ground beside him. "Err… you don't… you don't like me or anything, right?"

Malfoy's eyes widened and he stared at Harry for a moment, his shock displaying itself on his face. "No! I like you as a friend and all but… that was an accident, I swear."

His confession lightened Harry's heart. "Good… I didn't want things to get weird…er… between us. I don't like you either- I don't think I like _anyone_ at the moment, to tell the truth. Friends?" Harry's tears had dried and now he had an expectant, happy look on his face.

"Friends. Just friends." The Malfoy boy said. He wished he could feel the same in his heart, though.

HPTRHPTRHPTRHPTRHPTRHPTRHPTR

Tom Riddle stalked down to his dungeons and conjured up a nameless, faceless, sparring partner from a dirty sock. As soon as the body materialized, it aimed a roundhouse kick to his face, which he skillfully avoided, making an attack of his own.

He had just been taking a walk alone in the gardens outside the castle, when he had heard soft whimpering. The Dark Lord had cautiously turned a corner of the castle and peeked behind a rose bush, before seeing the single most infuriating sight he had ever had the displeasure to witness. Potter and the Malfoy boy were attached at the lips. Harry's body had been flush up against the blonde's; their mouths had moved together smoothly and slowly. Two things were blaringly obvious to the Dark Lord: one, that the boys were obviously familiar with each other's mouths, and two, that the boys were undoubtedly deeply in love. Why else would the Malfoy boy have handled Harry so gently? The boy, as far as Tom knew, was usually cold and arrogant.

He struck his conjured partner with his fist. _I have no right to be so angry, _he thought, _it's not like I have a claim on Potter or anything! _He grabbed hold of the fist aimed at him and used it to twist his partner's arm. _And why would I want a claim on the brat anyway?_ _I don't like him. I don't!_

His thoughts must have distracted him, for his 'enemy' caught him in the face with a solid right-hook. The Dark Lord incinerated the thing with his wand and sunk to the floor, cradling his face in his hands. _But what if I am attracted to him? Doubtful he could ever stand my presence; after all, I killed his parents. Even if he could, he is with the Malfoy boy._

Tom resolved not to dwell on Potter any longer. He'd only be setting himself up for heartache- he didn't need that on top of everything else! He'd just concentrate on winning the war, nothing else. He didn't have time for anything else. He didn't care about anything else. At least… that's what he tried to tell himself.

A/N: THIS STORY IS **HARRY/TOM**! I promise! It looks like Harry/Draco right now- but it isn't! Don't kill me!

And now… I'm going to do some shameless advertising. My other story, **Dancing Through Sunday**, hasn't been getting much love on here. If you'd read/reviewe it, I'd really appreciate it… I really want to know what people think. It's unlike anything I've ever written before. Thanks!


	6. Chapter 5

A/N: Hi guys! I'm back again! Sorry I took so long to update- but I hope the length of this chapter makes up for it! This is the longest yet! WOOOO

As always, I'd like to thank the reviewers for their support. This chapter is dedicated to WhatSrName.

Oh yeah, thanks to Batsutousai, who pointed out a funny little blooper I made in the last chapter. Apparently, I wrote "Born to those who have thrice defied him, bored as the seventh month dies…" Haha, how embarrassing…

A huge thanks to MysticSilverAngel for beta-ing this!

Disclaimer from the prologue applies.

**Chapter 5:**

Harry sat silently at the breakfast table, lazily spooning cold porridge into his mouth. It was lumpy and gray, so Harry had no interest in eating it. For the last week, life had been dull. Surprisingly, the fighting in the castle had been kept down to a minimum; even Sirius didn't seem to be plotting anything against the Death Eaters.

The underage students in the castle had been in classes for a week. They only had one class a day (Even though there was war on the horizon, it was summer!). Luckily, after their first Dark Arts lesson, the remaining four classes of the week had been the classes that were normally included in the Hogwarts Curriculum: Defense Against the Dark Arts, Potions (Snape was still a bastard), Charms, and Transfiguration. Harry had yet to experience any classes with the Dark Lord, but his Riddle-free time was coming to an end, as all good things did.

But Harry wasn't dreading today's class as much as he should have been. Upon learning that Voldemort and his merry band of criminals would be living in the castle with him, Harry had expected his life to become a living hell. In all actuality, though, he barely even noticed that they were there. No one had given him any trouble yet; something that could probably be attributed to the Dark Lord's warning to them that first day.

Even the Dark Lord himself hadn't given Harry any trouble. Well, not really. Though he was terrifying when angry and slightly frightening when not, the man was usually silent and mild-tempered, as far as Harry knew. The only thing that scared Harry a bit was the man's tendency to stare at him. On any given day, Harry would find himself eating quietly in the great hall. Then, out of the blue it seemed, he'd glance up from his plate and his eyes would immediately connect with endless chocolate orbs. The Dark Lord never broke his stare and looked away, as people who were caught staring were wont to do. Instead, his stare seemed to deepen and occasionally a triumphant spark would light his eyes, as if he had been waiting for Harry to acknowledge his stare.

Most days, it creeped Harry out.

Other days, the attention flattered and confused Harry. On these days, he could feel the back of his neck heating up and a warm ball of arousal lighting up his stomach something fierce. On these days, he was sure that out of the corner of his eye, he could see Hermione stop spooning her porridge into her mouth and watch with rapt attention the heavy flush that spread across Harry's face.

On these days, Harry swore he could peripherally see Hermione turn to the side and locate Draco across the hall, seemingly telegraphing him an important message using her eyes.

On these days, Harry noticed (or maybe imagined- who was he to say?) that Draco seemed to stay closer to him than usual, _especially_ when the Dark Lord was around.

Today just happened to be one of Those Days.

Tom's eyes connected with Harry's from across the room. The green eyed boy could see Hermione and Draco mid-telegraph (so he hadn't imagined it!), when all of a sudden, his staring contest was broken by a shriek of outrage.

Harry turned to the source of the disturbance- Macnair. He privately found it hilarious that the intimidating executioner that he'd met in his third year could produce a shriek worthy of Ron if he were locked in a spider-infested room. It took Harry only a glance to figure out what the problem was- the man's robes (which were the traditional Death Eater robes) had turned the vilest shade of pink that Harry had ever seen. As soon as Macnair's robes had changed color, the other Death Eaters' robes had also made the transformation. The wave of pinkness spread from person to person like a deadly virus; for a moment, Harry almost felt sorry for them. The Death Eaters all stood up abruptly, raising mass-hysteria amongst themselves.

Another scream of outrage was let loose into the hall, this time coming from the area around Lucius Malfoy.

"Check your marks! Check your marks!" The same panic-filled voice urged. As one, the crowd of pink-clad Death Eaters raised their left arms and slipped their sleeves back, baring their forearms for the world to see. Harry's spoon, which had been halfway to his mouth when the whole thing had started, cluttered to the table as he cupped his hand over his lips, shaking in silent mirth.

Instead of snarling skulls and slithering serpents on their forearms, something far more hideous decorated the Death Eaters' skin.

Flowers.

Flashy flower-power flowers.

The flowers shimmered in psychedelic 70's colors, flashing brightly in the sunlight. They almost seemed to be _mocking_ the Death Eaters.

Harry heard someone next to him gasping for air, and when he turned, it was to see Sirius, whose laughter was barely restrained. His right fist was shoved into his mouth and his big blue eyes were wet with tears of mirth. He stomped his feet on the ground rapidly, looking like a child who desperately needed to loo, instead of a 40-something year old man who was trying to quell his laughter.

Once Sirius was able to remove his fist from his mouth, and was simply sitting on his bench gasping for air, Harry leaned in conspiratorially. "Siri… you don't happen to have anything to do with this, do you?"

Sirius' eyes darted left, then right, as if searching for eavesdroppers. When he had evidently deemed it safe enough to speak, he opened his mouth. "Why, I certainly did. I wasn't a Marauder for nothing!"

"And how did you do this, exactly?" Harry seemed genuinely curious.

"Weeeeeelllll… I spiked their porridge. Rather simple, really. Just added a small bottle of this (here, he pulled out an empty glass vial), and added it to the pot of porridge that the house elves were making this morning." He seemed proud of his work.

"And what, exactly, _is_ that?" Now, Harry was worried. Though the prank was funny, he didn't trust Sirius not to add something terrible to it just to sweeten the deal- something that would, oh say, cause the Death Eaters to break out in boils. Or throw up slugs. Or have the shits for the rest of the day. Or-

His train of thought was cut off by Sirius. "Oh, nothing much! Their robes and tattoos haven't even really changed! It's just an illusion- everyone just _sees_ hideous pink and flower-power. I may be a little dim, Harry, but I don't have a death wish! But I say- this'll teach those sneaky snakes!"

Harry breathed a sigh of relief. At least the Death Eaters- who were now under control, merely grumbling unhappily into their breakfasts- wouldn't burn his poor godfather at the stake.

After a few moments, the sound in the great hall dimmed down to the usual drone of the early morning. The joke had worn off, and Harry had slipped back into boredom.

Harry glanced up from his bowl and met chocolate eyes once again.

HPTRHPTRHPTRHPTRHPTRHPTRHPTR

Later that day, Harry and Hermione made their way out of the castle. The air outside was clean and fresh; it was a welcome change from the stale, stuffy air that circulated throughout Hogwarts. They walked out past the greenhouses and the gardens, into a little patch of field near the Quidditch pitch. It was a hot, sunny day, perfect for outdoor activity.

Today would be the students' first lesson with the Dark Lord. Though he was somewhat wary, Harry wasn't as downright terrified as he had been just before his first class with Malfoy.

The rest of the kids in the class were sprawled along on the ground, lazily waiting for the arrival of their professors. Harry and Hermione walked over to where Draco was sitting alone, lying on his back with an arm thrown over his eyes. Malfoy must have sensed the two approaching- he removed his arm and sat up.

"Morning Harry, Granger," Malfoy greeted. Though they were nowhere near friends, Hermione and Draco had made a truce for Harry's benefit. Harry had the distinct feeling, though, that they both knew something that he didn't. He shrugged the feeling off; his paranoia had probably just increased because of the oncoming war.

"Morning Draco!" Harry chirped back. Hermione just spared him a small smile as the two sat down, Harry in the middle. Harry noticed the Draco subtly shifted closer to him, leaning all his weight on the arm that was closest to Harry. "So… did you enjoy your pink robes this morning?" Though Harry's voice had a slightly gloating tone to it, the blonde knew he was kidding.

He pouted anyway. "No. All of us had to go change after breakfast! Ohhhh I wish I knew who'd done that- I'd pummel him for sure! It was probably those Weasley twins, though…" Harry rather thought that Draco sounded like a ranting teenaged girl. "I mean really! _Pink_ and horrible shiny _flowers_! What kind of prank is that anywa-"

"Shhhhh! Here come the professors!" Hermione interrupted Draco's enraged monologue.

Harry squinted across the lawn for a moment, before he spotted two tall figures making their way across the grounds towards the class. Harry recognized the one on the right to be Charlie Weasley- his hair made it impossible to mistake him for anyone else (except, perhaps, another Weasley). The man was tall and muscular, with long, straight red hair. His bangs came down to the tops of his cheekbones, obscuring his eyes from view.

On the left was the Dark Lord. Though most would not be able to tell from this far away, Harry knew who it was without a shadow of a doubt. He'd recognize that self-confident gait anywhere. Riddle was also tall, just barely taller than Charlie, though the dark haired man was a little less muscular. Harry's eyes stayed fixed on the Dark Lord, drinking up the man's visage.

He didn't noticed Hermione and Draco shooting worried looks at each other behind Harry's back. Draco's eyebrows drew together as he frowned and scooted just a little closer to Harry.

Both of the teachers had finally made their way to the small group of students. Their pupils had quieted now, staring at the two men with rapt attention.

"Hello, class! Welcome to your first day of archery lessons!" Charlie's greeting was warm and friendly, diffusing the small bit of tension that had settled amongst the teens. "First, I'd like to tell you all that we won't be learning swordsmanship for a few weeks yet; as it is more physically demanding than archery is."

Harry felt a small part of him sink in disappointment; he had been looking forward to learning to be a swordsman.

He watched as Riddle waved his wand, and fifteen bows and quivers of arrows appeared- two for the teachers and thirteen for the students. The man waved his wand again, and fifteen bulls-eye targets appeared fairly close to the students.

"Now, first things first. You need to know how to properly set up your shot, before you actually begin taking them. Mr. Weasley, if you would?" Voldemort's voice gave Harry a little shock; it was so strange to hear the man speaking like any other teacher would have.

Charlie bent and picked up a large bow and a quiver of arrows. He slung the quiver over his shoulder and held the bow in his hands. It was large and wooden, the dark brown curved in a graceful arch. Charlie grabbed an arrow from the quiver and got into position to aim his shot.

Riddle nodded approvingly. "This is the proper shooting form. Hold the bow firmly- you don't want the force of your arrow to throw your shot off course." The older teacher began circling Charlie, pointing out all the elements of a perfect stance. "Make sure your back is straight, not slouched over. Also, hold the arrow pointing a little above your target- it'll drop a bit when you release it, so it should strike dead-on." When the Dark Lord was done, he gave the ok for Charlie to shoot the arrow. He released the bow and it shot the arrow perfectly. The pointed weapon soared through the air for a moment, before landing directly in the bulls-eye with an audible thump.

"Any questions?" The Dark Lord implored.

A tentative voice came from beside Harry. "Sir, why do we have to learn archery? Not to be disrespectful, but wouldn't spells be much more useful?" Hermione questioned.

"Good question, Ms. Granger," Harry was shocked to see the Dark Lord addressing Hermione in such a respectful way. "Normally, yes, spell-work would come in handy more. But you know as well as I do that it's incredibly hard to aim a curse at someone from a distance. That's where archery comes in. We hope to set up a strong defense. That way, if we were to be attacked, we might be able to take out some of the opposition quickly and at a distance, and perhaps gain an advantage that way." His explanation made a lot of sense to Harry, who never could have thought of such an effective strategy himself. "Any more questions?" The class collectively shook their heads.

Charlie got out of his stance and turned to the teens, a smile plastered on his always-friendly face. "Well, guys, there you go! Pick a bow and start shooting! We set the targets pretty close for today, seeing as how most of you haven't ever shot before. Have at it!"

Everyone got slowly to their feet and picked bows that they liked. Harry's was thin and lightweight, made out of a light, almost white, wood. He picked out a quiver of arrows at random- they all seemed the same to him- and slung it over his shoulder.

Harry made his way over to Draco and Hermione, who were bent over their bows and whispering quietly and conspiratorially. When the two saw Harry approaching, they quickly broke apart and plastered innocent grins on their faces. Harry, bewildered as he was, chose to ignore the strange way in which they were acting, opting instead to turn to the nearest target. His friends followed his example, aiming at targets on their side of Harry's.

After about twenty minutes, Harry realized that archery was much harder than he'd thought it would be. His damned arrows kept landing in the ground, somewhere about ¾ of the way to the actual target. If he was lucky, occasionally his arrows would fly the full distance to the bulls-eye, only to veer off to the left or the right. Not one had even struck the most outer ring of the target, a fact that frustrated Harry to no end.

Looking to the right, Harry was relieved to see that Hermione wasn't doing too much better than he was. Most of her arrows had fallen short too, but he saw two jutting out from the widest ring of the bulls-eye. Harry looked to his left, immediately blushing in embarrassment when he saw how well Draco was doing. None of the blonde's arrows had fallen short- something that could probably be attributed to the considerable amount of upper body strength the boy possessed. Most of his arrows had at least hit the outer ring. A few had even struck closer than that!

Filled with determination to best Draco (They were friends, but Harry still had a massive competitive streak!), the brunette plucked another arrow from his quiver, lining up his shot and releasing. The arrow soared through the air at a high velocity, and Harry held his breath for a moment- only to let it all go with a 'whoosh' when his arrow missed the target by only a few centimeters. He'd _never_ get the hang of this!

Suddenly, Harry felt a presence behind him. Unnoticed by the brunette, the Dark Lord had been wandering around the class, quietly offering assistance to those who needed it.

Riddle slowly sauntered up to Harry, smiling warmly as he approached. "Well, Potter… let me see your shot." His quiet command, though not harsh, left no room for argument. Not that Harry would have argued in the first place.

"O-Okay." The younger of the two agreed hesitantly. For some reason, he was nervous about his performance. Would the Dark Lord think he was hopeless because he wasn't a good archer? And how must he look, standing there next to Draco, whose shot was a great deal better than Harry's?

The nervous boy spared a glance to Draco, who was sure to be gloating next to him. He could already see the friendly, yet challenging smirk that was sure to be plastered onto the blonde's smug face. He was surprised, however, when the blonde showed no sign of arrogance whatsoever. Instead, he stood stock still with his eyes stuck warily on the Dark Lord. The blonde jumped into action when he realized that Harry was looking at him- he drew an arrow from his quiver and quickly aligned it perfectly with his bow, letting it go. The arrow struck the bulls-eye about two centimeters away from the center of the target. Draco turned back to the Dark Lord haughtily and gave him a short stare; it was almost as if the boy was trying to assert his alpha male position over his teacher.

Either Riddle didn't see Draco, or he didn't care. He just stood calmly a few feet behind Harry, waiting for the smaller boy to make a move.

Harry shakily collected an arrow and aimed it straight for the target. Pulling the bow back, he let the arrow whiz through the air, and was thoroughly disappointed when it landed -yet again- a few feet in front of the target. Would he ever get this right!

The Dark Lord critically studied Harry's form and came to a decision.

"Potter… were you listening to what I was saying while Weasley was demonstrating?" Harry's face colored in a pretty blush. Sure, he'd _listened_ while Riddle had been talking. But he hadn't been listening to what the man was actually saying- no, instead he'd chosen to let the deep baritone wash over him, basking in the simple pleasure of hearing the man's voice.

"Yes, of course I was, professor." It wasn't a lie- just an omission.

The Dark Lord shook his head with a playful smile written across his face. He seemed to know exactly what had been racing through the younger man's mind. "Sure you were, Potter." His voice was friendly, not accusing, and Harry was surprised at the lack of anger. "Would you mind showing me your stance again, please? Just aim the arrow for now. Don't shoot it."

Harry quickly produced another arrow and tried to mimic the form that he had seen Charlie use. "Ah, I see what it is! You need to aim your arrow above the target, not straight at it. That way, the arrow will hit dead-on, instead of not even making it to the target. Remember that little thing called gravity, Potter?" Harry's blush, which had finally retreated, returned. The most feared man in Britain had just made a joke- to _him_!

Harry angled his arrow above the bulls-eye and let it go. To Harry's horror and intense embarrassment, it completely missed the target, shooting straight over it and into the grass beyond. The Dark Lord chuckled and took a few steps closer to Harry, now standing directly behind him. He plucked an arrow from Harry's quiver and handed it to the boy. "Here, try again."

Harry again positioned the arrow and held his pose. The Dark Lord was close to Harry now and the boy was having trouble suppressing his trembling. "Let me help you." Harry let out a startled squeak when two strong arms wrapped around his own. Large, thick hands grasped Harry's own tightly around the bow and Harry's flesh seemed to burn at the contact. The man's scent engulfed him totally and completely; it was warm and protective and dangerous and provocative all at once. It swirled around Harry's head, making him weak and pliable in the other man's hands. He was sure that if Tom asked him to be the target, he would have without a second thought. He gulped when Tom pulled the arrow back, his strong muscles bunching up under the sleeves of his shirt. "See, you have to hold the bow firmly, or else your arrow will waver."

Harry thought his knees would give out. That lulling baritone that he'd been admiring all day was now right behind him; Harry could feel the warmth of the other's breath on the side of his face. "Aim just a little above the target, but not as high as you did before. You'll have to do that later, but for now we're pretty close." More of that breath against his face and Harry could have happily died on the spot.

The taller brunette bent down to Harry's level and pressed the side of his face against Harry's own, lining up his own eyes with the end of the arrow. Though Harry realized that Tom was being purely professional- it wasn't as if the man _wanted_ him or anything- it was hard not to gasp at the feeling. The stubble-dotted cheek brushed against his own smooth one deliciously and Harry thought he could feel the other man's jaw muscle twitch. Tom had pressed himself against Harry's back now- in order to aim the arrow correctly- and he felt the man's heat searing down the length of his back. Harry gulped audibly and tried to slow the beating of his frantic heart. A shiver raced its way up his spine while Harry's stomach muscles twitched and trembled in arousal. A bead of sweat trickled down the crevice between Harry's jaw and his neck; Harry couldn't tell if it was Tom's or his own.

The arrow suddenly snapped out of Harry's hold as Tom let it go. It soared through the air and struck the bulls-eye dead on and Harry smiled, despite his uncomfortable arousal. He'd finally done it! Tom took a step away from Harry- he tried to quell his disappointment- and offered a congratulatory nod. "See, Potter? Nothing to it."

Harry nodded in joy and turned to Draco, completely intent on sharing his happiness with his friend. But the blonde wasn't looking at him. No, the blonde's eyes were stormy and filled with a (jealous?) teenage rage. His eyebrows were drawn together and his strong jaw jutted out angrily, his face perfectly shaped into a beautiful sneer. For a moment, Harry was taken aback- was his new friend angry that Harry had finally succeeded? Then, he noticed that the blonde wasn't looking at him, as he had previously thought they were. Draco's eyes were fixed on a spot about a foot above Harry's head. Draco's eyes were locked right onto Tom Riddle's.

HPTRHPTRHPTRHPTRHPTRHPTR

Hermione raced through the halls of Hogwarts alone. Her backpack bounced on her hip as she careened about the hallways like a mad woman- she was late! Seemingly out of nowhere, a hand reached out from an abandoned classroom and latched onto her arm, dragging her into the room. She shut the door behind her and leaned against it, catching her breath. "Sorry I'm late! I couldn't get away from Harry."

"It's fine." Draco Malfoy, the owner of the hand, lifted himself atop of one of the desks in the room. He moodily stared down at the floor for the moment, before looking up into Hermione's eyes. "I don't know what to do! Did you see what happened today!"

Harry only thought that Hermione and Draco had come to a cease-fire, acting at least civil in front of him. But Harry, as usual, was wrong. Hermione and Draco had actually come to a sort of agreement with each other. Hermione, unknown to Harry and (at the time) Draco, had seen what they had dubbed "the kiss." She'd seen the way that Draco had lovingly cradled Harry's body in his arms and they way that he'd seemed disappointed after the kiss was broken. She'd seen the boys' promise to remain friends and then she'd seen how Draco had cursed himself and looked heartbreakingly sad after Harry had left. That was when she'd decided to step in. Though Hermione Granger wasn't the most wise person when it came to love, she wanted the best for her best friend. She wasn't a fool- no, she'd seen the way that the Dark Lord and Harry watched each other. But she also knew what Harry had told her about the prophecy in June- the two were supposed to _kill_ each other, for Christ's sake! Therefore, Hermione had decided to help Draco win over Harry; she'd do anything to keep him away from the Dark Lord. So, Hermione had approached Draco and offered to help him. Oh, the blonde had refused and argued at first, but after about a half an hour of Hermione's incessant arguing, he'd agreed. He knew he'd need all the help he could get to win over the smaller boy. Hermione had promised to try to help Draco in any way he requested and to just be there when he needed to talk about it, which was the reason that he had grabbed her and all but forced her into the abandoned classroom.

"Yeah, I saw. I mean, really! Hitting on Harry in _class_?" The bookworm in Hermione was appalled that her Professor had taken away time from the lesson in order to put the moves on her best friend.

"I know!" Draco's voice was frustrated and upset. "And it's not like Harry didn't enjoy it! What should I do? I'm going to lose him to the Dark Lord, and that's not something I can live with!"

"I know, Draco. Listen, I think that you should just tell Harry what's going on. I know he at least likes you as a friend; he's always talking about you!" Hermione tried to encourage Draco.

"Granger, I _can't_! He'll reject me and then what'll I do!" It seemed that Malfoy's Slytherin side was finally showing through; his instincts for self-preservation were kicking in.

"Well, how else are you supposed to ever get anywhere with him?"

"I don't know! I think- I think I should just be his friend for a while, get him to like me a little. He's not just going to want to jump right into something." Draco's voice went from frantic to calm and resolute.

"Malfoy, can I ask you something?" Hermione questioned.

"Sure. Shoot."

"Do you love my best friend?"

Draco paused. _Did_ he love Harry? Draco had never been in love; the word was foreign and frightening to him. He thought back to how Harry's kisses had felt against his lips and the warm feeling that he got inside his chest whenever he thought about the tiny brunette, coupled with the heart-stopping fear that he would lose Harry to the Dark Lord. "I think so. Honestly, I've never been in love before. But I think that I'm coming pretty damn close."

Hermione seemed satisfied with Draco's answer, for she nodded and swept from the room with one last smile at the blonde.


	7. Chapter 6

A/N: AHHHH! I'm SO sorry this took so long to update! I have an excuse though- first I had volleyball try outs (which start at 7:45am and end at 6pm, with a short break in the middle… but I made the team so it's okay!) and then school started. I'm taking an art class which requires a lot of out-of-school work and that, coupled with volleyball and normal homework, leaves me barely any time to have a life of my own. I also had massive writer's block, so that was part of it. This chapter is a filler and I kind of really hate it… but it had to be done.

The beta'd version of this will be posted when I get it back from my awesome beta, MysticSilverAngel.

Also, thanks to all of the reviewers. You guys rock! I seriously wouldn't have gotten the inspiration to write this crappy fic if it weren't for you guys!

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter… but Tom Riddle does. Heh.

**Chapter 6:**

The fire flickered in the common room, casting weak shadows onto the grey stone walls. Harry sat staring into the dimming fire alone. His handsome face was fixed in a tiny frown and he pensively chewed on his bottom lip.

It seemed to Harry that everything had been happening to fast and he didn't know what to do. Barely two weeks ago, he'd been at his hellhole of a house, and now? Now, he was living in a castle with a horde of known murderers.

Wonderful.

What horrified Harry more, though, was the fact that he didn't hate it. At the beginning, he thought he would. But slowly, his resolve to hate had weakened and now it seemed barely existent. He was friends with Draco, after all. And his attraction to the Dark Lord- well, Harry didn't want to even think about to consequences of _that_. But even he could admit that there was something there, and he wasn't entirely sure that it was strictly one-sided either. He'd thought it had been just a fluke on that day in archery class a week ago- but then, the touches and stares had increased and he'd started to notice.

Harry was also not as thick as Hermione and Draco might want him to be. He'd noticed the little glances they often shared over his shoulder. He'd also noticed that Hermione had been disappearing to who knew where at random hours of the day- incidentally, Harry also had trouble locating Draco during these times. The only thing that surprised Harry about this was that he'd thought Draco was gay. So much for _that _theory, then.

Harry jolted when he heard a small noise come from the opposite end of the room, and looked over to see that Ron was making is way through the portrait.

"Hey, Ron." Harry greeted. He wasn't too optimistic that Ron would reply- the redhead was still angry with Harry and Hermione.

Ron made a small noise in the back of his throat and kept walking. Harry sighed- so that meant Ron was still angry. He turned back to the fire and away from Ron, choosing to ignore him instead of provoking him. He was surprised when, instead of heading up to the dorms, Ron plopped down onto the sofa next to him.

"Hey, Harry." The redhead's voice was quiet and a bit timid, catching Harry off guard for a moment.

"How have you been?" Harry's question could have been used to greet a stranger instead of a good friend. That fact escaped neither Ron nor Harry and it strained the atmosphere in the room.

"I've been okay. And you?"

"The same." After Harry's answer, the room delved into silence. Then, after a moment:

"Listen, Harry… I'm sorry for all that stuff I said." Ron's fingers twisted in a corner of his shirt, betraying his nervousness.

"It's fine. I'm not really the one you should be apologizing to, though- you hurt Hermione pretty badly, I'd say." It was Harry's way of making peace in the trio. Even he could admit that nothing seemed the same without Ron there.

"Yeah… yeah, I know. I just got so mad, you know? It was such a shock. I didn't mean what I said to her." His hands stopped toying with the shirttail; now, they lay still in his lap.

"It was a shock to all of us. But hey- it's not so bad to live with them. Not as bad as you'd think, anyway." Ah, ever the optimist.

"Yeah, I guess you're right. No one's given me any trouble so far." And then, Harry and Ron were 'Harry and Ron' again. Harry scooted closer to Ron on the couch and gave him a one-armed hug- because a hug with two arms just didn't seem manly enough to either of them.

They both stared into the fire for a moment, before Ron stood. "Well, I'm gonna head off to bed now." He yawned, stretching his long arms.

"Yeah, me too."

HPTRHPTRHPTRHPTRHPTR

Tom Riddle sat motionless in a large armchair. He was in Dumbledore's office; he had been called there earlier this morning, but when he arrived, the old man was nowhere to be found.

Tom's eyes glazed over slightly as he stared at the wall opposite him, lost in thought. He leaned his chin on his elbow lazily and sucked in a deep, bored breath.

Though the Dark Lord appeared calm and collected on the outside, his head was bombarded with stray thoughts.

More specifically, stray thoughts concerning that damnable Potter boy. He just couldn't get the boy out of his head!

The Dark Lord had tried everything in the beginning to get the boy to leave his thoughts. He'd tried ignoring the boy- that hadn't worked. He'd tried working out his frustration through physical exertion- that hadn't worked, either. So, the Dark Lord had decided to give up on avoiding the Potter boy; it was more trouble than it was worth, really.

And, honestly, was his attraction to the Potter boy all that bad? The Dark Lord himself was nineteen again- thanks to a body-restoration ritual that his loyal followers had so generously preformed. The Potter boy was- what- sixteen? The difference wasn't too bad.

No, the only thing that disturbed the Dark Lord was the reason for his attraction. He just couldn't figure it out! He'd never been attracted to the boy before- let alone any other male! He wasn't _gay_. He wasn't!

So why the attraction for Pott- Harry? Tom just couldn't figure it out.

So, there he sat in Dumbledore's office, waiting for the old coot to finally appear. The man had scheduled this appointment in the first place- he should at least have bothered to be here on time!

Tom surveyed the Headmaster's office with mild interest. His eyes swept over the aged wooden desk and the tables filled with whirling silver trinkets, over the red phoenix on its perch, over the black cabinet that held the penseive.

Wait-

The penseive.

Tom stared at it for a few moments, recalling the last time he'd seen anything from its murky depths; he had been sitting here, in this very chair, watching the old fraud of a Divination teacher deliver the prophecy.

Surely the prophecy couldn't have anything to do with his attraction towards the Potter boy.

Right?

**Right?**

Tom sat up abruptly and chewed his lip in concentration, trying desperately to recall the exact wording of the prophecy.

… **The Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not…**

_What did the old bat mean? I'll mark him as my equal? Surely she didn't mean that…_

The Dark Lord paled.

_But what if she _did _mean that? I'll mark him as my equal- what, am I going to marry him or something?_

Tom snorted. Even if he did end up with Potter by some miracle, he'd _never _get married. Ever.

Just as Tom breathed a short sigh of relief, a small click sounded through the office. Dumbledore waltzed into the room jauntily, as if he wasn't thirty minutes late. "Hello, my boy!"

Tom nodded in greeting and remained seated, watching as the old man made his way behind his desk. "Is there a reason I was summed here, sir?" Tom's question was laced with sarcasm.

"Yes, yes! Onto business as usual, I see! Would you like a lemon drop?"

Tom shook his head. "Ah, well. Anyway, Mr. Riddle. I've asked you here to discuss a very important matter. Though both sections of the resistance- the Order and the Death Eaters- are training and getting along relatively well, There is a problem."

Tom raised his eyebrows in interest. "And what would that problem be?"

"Well… to put it bluntly, there is no way that we would be able to fight a battle as we are now. I think that the two sides need to be united under one leader- almost like a muggle General. We can't just go barreling into a fight without knowing what we're doing first." The Headmaster said.

"I thought that you and I were the leaders?" Tom man raked a hand tiredly through his ebony locks.

"We are. But I think it would be more effective if just one of us actually leads them all into battle. The other will still have his say, of course. This will be more for show than anything else; our men need to feel like they are united under a common leader to fight a common goal. Thus far, it seems that their lack of fighting has been merely obedience, rather than their desire to win this war." The old man had made a good point, and Tom agreed. The Dark Lord didn't really care, either way- he knew that in the end, his Death Eaters would follow his commands if the need arose.

The Headmaster's next words, though, shocked the Dark Lord. "I think that the leader should be you, my boy." Dumbledore's old blue eyes sparkled. "As much as I hate to admit it, I don't think that I could lead them all. Your men wouldn't listen to me."

And it was true. Tom's men would react violently if they found out that they would be under Dumbledore's rule- they both knew it.

"And what about the Order?" Tom's deep baritone floated into the office.

"The Order will listen to you. If not of our respect for me, then perhaps out of fear." The old voice held a laughing quality to it, as if Albus found it amusing that legions of men feared his former pupil.

"Alright, then. I'll do it." And so, the deal was sealed. Tom would lead the resistance from now on. He'd be the stoic commander that the men desperately needed. His heart pounded furiously.

A/N: Well, there it is. Don't kill me for making it so crappy. Now, I'm going to do some shameless advertising. I've posted two new one- shots and I'd greatly appreciate it if you guys would check them out. The first is called **Hero(in)**, and it's HP/SS. The second is called **Blue Monday**, which is HP/DM. I hope you guys read/enjoy them.


End file.
